Conspiracy Theories
by Kaldrake
Summary: Why goblins should never be allowed into Shattrath, and how it affected Silvermoon City. One-shot. Goblin, blood elf. No pairings. Original Character


"What do ya mean my tab ain't paid? I gave you seven gold ta take care of it!"

The diminutive form glared up the two and a half feet to meet the eye of the unhappy barkeep. A contest of wills ensued. Vozi Craigpurse was not one who gave up easily, and he very much was aware of when he was being conned. To the opposite, Vinemaster Suntouched was a seasoned trader, and experienced in dealing with problematic customers. After a long pause, the elf rolled his eyes, thoroughly annoyed.

"You paid seven for the wine, yes. However you owe me thirty for the Special Reserve you pilfered from the supply cupboard last night."

Not phased at the accusation, the goblin's glare intensified. "Ya got proof?"

"No. However, I am certain that a perusal of your packs would reveal the bottles. If you've nothing to hide, you would not object."

"Oh, I object. Iffin ya wanna make somethin' of this, how 'bout we go talk ta one of them nice guards outside? I ain't too comfy-like doin' this unofficial. Ya might steal somethin'."

The elf bristled at the insinuation. "... Fine. Come with me." He turned to stalk out of the inn, leaving the confused innkeeper to watch over his stock. Vozi followed at a leisurely pace, not overly concerned with the turn in events. Silvermoon City was less than hospitable to visiting races, and the goblins never were looked on too kindly by anyone. Our own fault, he reflected, as he followed the irate elf towards the Sun Spire.

Near the entrance, one of the lesser magisters greeted Suntouched with a smile. The goblin almost felt sorry for the guy, as he was immediately cornered by the wine master. Putting up an air of feigned interest, Vozi peered at the finger pointed in his direction.

"Loramath, arrest this troublemaker! He's stolen my wares!"

Vozi directed a pointy grin at them both, as the magister took in his numerous piercings, grubby armor, and the daggers displayed openly at his sides. Of course, that wasn't accounting for the sixteen other daggers hidden on his person. Not counting needles hidden within various metal bits. But hey, a goblin can never be too prepared. The guard looked uneasy, and it dawned on the goblin with amusement, that he was popping the guy's detainment cherry. He felt smug and proud.

"Er... perhaps I should fetch-"

The wine master cut him off, growing impatient, "No, you'll do. This is a simple dispute that could have been settled without bothering you. He is simply being difficult and refusing to let me investigate his packs."

The guard looked puzzled, gazing down at Vozi. He winked and adjusted his stance provocatively, making the elf flush a bright red. The smug sense of accomplishment swelled. The wine master looked disgusted at the display, motioning impatiently. It seemed to startle the guard out of his nerves, as he let out a quiet cough and straightened his spine, gazing down at Vozi seriously. For his part, the rogue merely smirked.

"Sir, would you please let me see your bag?"

The polite inquiry gave Vozi some pause. So far the elves had been unaccommodating to goblins. On one hand, baiting a magister could prove fun. On the other hand, the prospect of being confined made his skin itch. After a long, tense, wait, Vozi finally un-shouldered his pack, offering it to the guard. His compliance seemed to momentarily stun both elves, as they simply stared at it dumbly for a fraction of second, before the wine master smirked triumphantly. The goblin held in a snort. Of course, he would not find what he was looking for.

Accepting the pack with an air of anxiety, the guard led them into a side-room off the main walk-way. The room was moderately furnished with rugs, and pillows, with some chairs and a small table situated towards the back. Hookahs dotted among the pillows, some lazily drifting smoke that made Vozi sneeze as they passed. A rack near the door held glaives, and other weapons. The goblin bit back a mad laugh. The poor guy had taken him straight to the guard's room of repose, rather than an interrogation chamber, like he was used to.

The uppity wine vendor seemed to notice as well, if his sneer at the magister was anything to go by. Nervously setting Vozi's pack on the table, tapered ears twitched back under the unamused stare of the accuser. The goblin watched with mild fascination as he finally got to work, opening the main flap to cautiously dig around.

First to be revealed was a grimy shrunken head, the lips sealed closed with trollish charms and thread. Both elves gagged as the smell hit. The guard held it up with thumb and forefinger before delicately dropping it to the wooden surface. Next, a pair of faintly shimmering daggers. After still: Five books, a gem encrusted chest the size of Vozi's head, two pistols that had seen better days, a stone plate which had to be wrested from the opening due to its size, a bag of gems the size of an orc's fist, and various smaller relics of useful and useless purpose.

All three boggled. After a long moment, Vozi spoke up hopefully, "Hey, dig deeper, pal, maybe ya c'n find that enchanted rabbit I lost a while back."

The request received incredulous stares, but finally, the guard continued. Before long, the table was nearly toppled under the weight and amount of items amassed from the innocently sized backpack. The enchanted rabbit indeed, was found, after five minutes of digging. It let out a high-pitched screech before attempting to bolt from the dumbfounded magister's hand. Only Vozi's quick reflexes kept it from escaping, as he expertly snagged it by the ears and held it in a stranglehold, deftly unclasping the collar around its neck. Immediately it withered to bone beneath his hands. He gave the elves a cheerful grin, transferring the pile of bones to the crook of his arm, and making an impatient gesture with his fingers.

The guard looked almost afraid, as he stared into the opening with wide eyes. The wine-master, as well, looked alarmed. Exchanging a glance, the guard's ear twitched downward, as if to say, _'Do I have to?'_ Wavering for a moment, the vendor drew in a steadying breath to calm his riled nerves, before nodding firmly. The magister's ears drew down, as if he were trying not to cry, as he squinted his eyes closed to continue digging. Owing to there being no room on the table anymore, the poor guy refrained from removing any more items, merely feeling around for bottle-shaped objects.

After a while longer of such antics, other magisters slowly began to notice the anomaly within their own break room. Some peered in curiously, while others took seats near the door, completely enthralled by the oddity. Vozi suppressed a grin as he heard whispered bets eventually filter through the small crowd, once they realized what was happening. The sacrificial lamb shifting through the bag yelped a time or two, drawing blistered, or bloody fingers out quickly. This prompted snickers, and silver exchanging hand behind their backs.

At long lost, the poor guy gave an aggravated huff, turning to glare at the wine master. The turn in attitude seemed to startle him. "If he took your blasted wine, feel free to search for it to your heart's content." The young magister brandished his bleeding hand at the contrite brunette. All the vendor could do was shake his head, utterly defeated. Spectacle over with, more silver was passed around, as the guard turned a belligerent stare on Vozi. He peered up innocently, eyes wide and confused.

"Clean up your things and leave the city. I don't wish to hear of anymore trouble making from you."

Pouting, the goblin bowed gallantly, "I didn' mean ta cause any trouble, honest." A slanted glance at the wine maker actually prompted a growl from the irate magister. "I don't care. Make sure you take everything, if I see one trinket, or severed body part left behind, I'll warrant for your arrest for littering and grave-robbery."

The goblin fought the urge to back talk, suspecting that in his pain and mild humiliation, the elf was serious. While baiting the elf-types was always fun, getting himself banished from a Horde city would look bad on his resume. Ear twitching, he skirted the elves and began carelessly shoving the odds and ends back into the pack, repressing the urge to whistle cheerfully as he dropped the shrunken head in last, relishing in the varying expressions of distaste, as he donned the bag, and turned to leave.

As he cleared the doorway, he cackled madly before snagging a bottle from the pack and taking a swig of rich spirits, dashing off as one of the older guards finally deigned comment. "What on Azeroth possessed you to go through a rogue's Portable Hole?"


End file.
